


i am grateful to the strangers who have taken me this far

by littlesaintmick



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, M/M, Smut, Trans Bruce Wayne, Trans Male Character, and a whole lot of pain!, characters and tags to be added, howdy y'all my name is mick and i'm here to wreck the fandom, in a good way, there's a mention of an underage character having sex but nothing explicit until he turns 18
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:47:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24321520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlesaintmick/pseuds/littlesaintmick
Summary: the same night with a different outcome.(probably out of character, the timeline and ages and literally everything has been fucked with for the purpose of the plot, and i do not care, as i hold none of that sacred. one could call this an exploration into 'would bruce wayne still be bruce wayne under different circumstances?' and 'what if someone had interfered and gotten jerome and jeremiah to reconnect and bond?')(could also probably just be called 'what in the world is this crap?', but let's be nice. it's my first fic for gotham and i haven't actually seen all of the show :P)
Relationships: Jeremiah Valeska/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 17
Kudos: 13





	i am grateful to the strangers who have taken me this far

**Author's Note:**

> please listen to 'state road 25' by ThouShaltNot before or after reading this. it's where the title comes from and is a bop. plus the singer-the wonderful alex reed-in some of his songs, sounds like what i think this incarnation of the joker would sound like singing :p have fun.

He ran. 

Somewhere in his head, he knew he shouldn’t have. He knew he should have stayed there so the police officers could help him and talk to him and take him home to Alfred, where he would have been comfortable and safe-

Safe. That was a word.

He was supposedly safe with his parents, but look what happened. And look where he was now; running along the streets of Gotham, running, running, running more. 

He came across the wooded area near the city limits. It was the farthest he’d ever been on his own and he didn’t realize how he’d gotten so far from Gotham, but he didn’t mind. Gotham was a nightmare he wanted to wake up from. Bruce looked around at the dark and the trees and didn’t look back to the lights of the city; there was barely any light there anyway. He did, however, see a few lights glowing deeper down the road, and he went from running to walking. His body began to feel tired, he began to feel quiet and sick and achy everywhere, and he wanted to sit down somewhere warm and silent. 

It was a circus. 

He’d been to this circus before. It had been odd and interesting, and he’d met a young boy who’d been rude to him and his family, but that boy’s mother had been even ruder. Bruce kept walking towards the lights, before finally falling to his knees and retching, throwing up everything that had been in his stomach. It hit him what had happened. His parents were killed in an alley after being robbed and he’d run from the scene, until he wasn’t even in Gotham anymore. Bruce couldn’t tell if he felt cowardly or not. Maybe he did. Maybe it didn’t matter. He didn’t want to go back, and maybe that was cowardly, too, but he definitely didn’t care. Gotham was a nightmare and he wanted to wake up. 

He sat, on his knees, shivering, and saw two sets of feet in front of him. 

“Hey, you’re the kid with the asshole parents-”

Oh. That didn’t set off positive feelings. Bruce immediately broke down into sobs, managing to hear over his own cries. 

“Whoa, kid, I coulda said way worse-”

“Jerome, hush! Somethin’s wrong with him-”

Someone kneeled next to him. A boy. He looked like the rude boy but he wasn’t being rude, and his hair was a little more controlled, and Bruce looked at him through tear-blurred eyes.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Where are your parents?”

More sobs. Bruce didn’t even know what to do in this state; he’d never cried like this in his life. He felt weird and gross and his head hurt and he desperately wanted to wake up from this. He somehow coherently said one thing:

“Dead.”

And then he was crying more, in front of the two redheaded boys, under the glow of circus lights and the dark night sky.

\---

Two days later, and Bruce still didn’t quite believe what had happened. But everyone here was nice so far, even the rude mother had been nice to him. 

And the twins hadn’t really left his side. It...was nice. To have someone with him. 

There was a nice woman named Mary who had especially tried to help him and keep him fed and warmed and made sure he got a bath, even though the twins had butted in on that as well, sitting with him and talking to him. Jerome-he was the rude one-had still been...well, rude, but less so than Bruce would have thought. That seemed to be due to the influence of the other twin-Jeremiah. 

Jeremiah was nicer. Different. Quieter and one might think he was meek, but Bruce had watched his eyes closely, and there was never fear. He always seemed to be taking in information and storing it away. Planning. It was oddly comforting, especially in the face of Jerome’s loudness. Jeremiah was sitting with him now, the two of them eating while Jerome got his own plate ready. Jeremiah had insisted that Bruce eat first, and Jerome had begrudgingly agreed. He’d learned a little about the twins as he told them about himself; they were two years older than him, Jerome was ninety-four minutes earlier. Bruce wondered why they said that instead of in hours, but the twins were odd, so he couldn’t really question it. Jerome was a scary kind of odd, but Jeremiah was just...odd. 

Though, after spending some time around him, Bruce didn’t dislike Jerome. He’d clearly had a hard life, and it had affected him in a particular way. Bruce couldn’t blame him for that, not really. Jeremiah seemed to handle the effects of their life differently. 

“Hello, Bruce.”

He looked up and saw the Ringmaster, standing with Mary, and her fiance, John. 

“Could you come with us for a moment?”

Jeremiah stood first, and Jerome set his plate down, standing next to his twin. They made quite the pair when they actually put their minds together. 

“What do you need him for?”

“You know we’re gonna come with him.”

The Ringmaster looked slightly annoyed, but Mary and John just looked...kind of amused. Bruce stood between the twins and looked up at the three adults. 

“Okay.”

They all went to the Ringmaster’s trailer, and he sat, as did Bruce, while Jeremiah stood and Jerome sat on the floor near the door, and Mary and John stood as well. 

“Bruce...we all know you come from a wealthy, comfortable life-”

Jerome snorted, and Jeremiah hushed him. 

“-and we were thinking it might be time for you to head back to that life.”

“No!”

Bruce immediately rejected the idea, his breathing picking up and everything felt unclear and fuzzy and he wanted to cry. Then he felt hands on his, one in his hair, petting him, and a voice in his ear. 

“You’re here, you’re here. Not in Gotham-you’re here-”

Jeremiah’s voice was soft and pleasant and dragged Bruce back down to earth. He calmed himself and realized Jerome was the one petting him. The Ringmaster just watched, an odd look on his face. 

“We also thought you might say that. And in that case-well-Mary and John have an idea.”

Bruce-and the twins-looked at the couple. John stepped forward and kneeled down on one knee. 

“Bruce, we know that what you’ve been through is hard-harder than what most people would know. You-Mary and I both lost our parents when we were young. We know how difficult it can be, but we had-she had her uncle, and I had my brother. No one should go through it alone, and we-we were thinking we could help you through it. At least-if you’re ever ready to go back to the life you had, we won’t keep you-no one here will-”

The twins’ hands tightened almost imperceptibly on him.

“-so if you need to leave, you can, but until then-what do you say to us taking care of you?”

Bruce swallowed. 

“Like...like-adopting?”

“It wouldn’t be quite so legal in the paperwork, but yes.”

The Ringmaster seemed supportive of the idea. Jeremiah tugged on Bruce’s hand, and he looked at the redhead, looked at Jerome as well. 

“Could you stay? For a little while?”

“You’d be better off here than growin’ up to be some rich jerkoff-”

“Jerome…”

Jeremiah’s eyes were honest and earnest, and Bruce nodded, looking up at Jerome again, too. 

“I-I can’t go back. I don’t want-I can’t be in that city again. I want to stay here.”

Jerome grinned and there was something to that look, but Jeremiah’s smile was softer, as were Mary and John’s. 

“So-you’ll be part of the Grayson family?”

Bruce nodded. It didn’t sound too bad. Jeremiah stroked his hand and Jerome actually laughed, loud as he wrapped his arms around Bruce’s shoulders. 

“Welcome to the circus, Brucie!”

\---

He was going by Rick now. 

At least to the general public, he was Richard Grayson. That had been what Mary and John had wanted to name their child if they ever had one, and it made for a convenient cover identity for Bruce. He was Richard Grayson, John’s young cousin who was learning the ropes-rather literally-at the circus and being fostered by John and Mary. He actually liked working at the circus, working with the rest of the Graysons-most of whom, he learned, weren’t related by blood to John and Alphonse-and learning how to do the trapeze acts, learning how to be a clown from Mary and Owen. 

He was also blonde now. That had actually been Lila’s idea to help mask his identity.

He didn’t really like Lila or the fortune teller, Cicero all too much. Cicero acted strange around him and Lila...was very mean to her sons. Particularly Jerome, which Bruce didn’t understand. Sure, Jerome acted out sometimes and did dangerous things, but he was still so young. There was time to figure out why he did those things instead of just punishing him for it. Even though he often got ‘punished’ for absolutely nothing. 

It was actually becoming a sore spot, after the seven months that he’d been at the circus, between Bruce and Jeremiah. 

Jeremiah was clearly the favored twin, even if their mother still didn’t treat him well, and Bruce knew Jeremiah knew it, but he didn’t understand why he wouldn’t help his twin fight against their mother, to help Jerome get better as he became increasingly...unstable, would probably be the word for it. 

And he had gotten much, much closer with the twins over the past seven months, to the point where he’d told them about the circumstances of his birth before he’d told anyone else; Jeremiah was interested and Jerome didn’t really care, because Jerome didn’t care about people’s genders or who they dated, and Bruce really appreciated that. It had been so much easier to be himself here at the circus than it had ever been in the high society circles and schools he’d been raised in. No one here cared. He felt like he was flourishing, doing things that really made him happy, he felt more free and real than he could have in that city. He’d also traveled a far greater deal than he ever did before; they were firmly in the midwest now, traveling out of a town called Smallville.

That had been a weird city in its own right. 

But the irony didn’t fall on Bruce that he was feeling more authentic now, living with a fake name states away from where he’d been raised, than he had attending private schools and trust fund kids’ birthday parties. 

Bruce sighed and stared at Jeremiah, crossing his arms over his chest. Jeremiah sighed right back, though much more subtly, his back turned to Bruce.

“I can’t do anything. I told you that.”

“You can help him. He’s your brother.”

“He doesn’t seem to want to be.”

“Maybe he would more if you’d help him.”

“Why does it matter so much?”

Bruce frowned. 

“Because he’s your family.”

“So is my mother, should I be trying to love her?”

Bruce sighed again and came to sit next to Jeremiah. They sat together often. Pretty much all of the time that they weren’t working. 

“Please. He needs someone.”

Jeremiah looked down at his hands. 

“What-if I help him, and he-tries to hurt me? He’s tried to hurt me before.”

Bruce knew that. He knew that after Jerome had gotten hurt by their uncle, Jeremiah had tried to help him and Jerome had responded by breaking Jeremiah’s nose and two of his fingers, he’d told Jeremiah he hated him and wished he had been an only child. They’d talked about it. Bruce reached out and grabbed Jeremiah’s hand. 

“It’s not too late, Jer. We can help him together.”

Jeremiah turned his hand over, so they could lace their fingers together, and he looked down at where they were joined. 

“I-don’t know what to do?”

Bruce smiled.    
“Me neither. We can figure it out. You’re a genius, so is Jerome-we can think of something.”

Jeremiah stroked his thumb over Bruce’s hand, nodding once. 

“Okay. We’ll-I don’t know what we’ll do, but-I’ll try.”

Bruce didn’t have any beliefs that it would be easy to help Jerome, to help him-and Jeremiah, who had his own issues-get healthier and happier, but he wanted to do it so badly, and he knew Jeremiah wasn’t just afraid of the possibility of Jerome hurting him-he was afraid because he was lost on how to help and because he didn’t understand his brother. Neither of them were really experienced enough in the world and in life to know exactly what to do in this situation, but they could do it together. 

\---

“-now breathe back out-”

“This is so boriiiiiiiing-”

Bruce could feel Jeremiah’s irritation with his brother, but kept his eyes closed, and tried to keep a smile off his lips. 

“Jerome, this is important-”

“Boys, please.”

Jerome sighed and Bruce peeked one eye open. Jerome grinned at him and closed his own eyes, trying to focus on the meditation that Mary was leading them through. It was a little more difficult for her to participate, now that she was so heavily pregnant, but she still wanted to, because she knew how important it was to Bruce that Jerome did this regularly, and he would only do it regularly if Bruce, Jeremiah, and Mary did it with him. 

It had been mostly Bruce’s idea for Jerome to become a clown. He was a natural showman, though, so he didn’t know why no one else had thought of it. And after two years of being a clown alongside Mary and Owen, he really had chilled out. There were still moments and incidents that caused some issues, but it wasn’t nearly as often. He really was doing great, he was the star of every show he took part in. Jerome and Jeremiah’s relationship had changed, too, thankfully. Jeremiah had started standing up to Lila, and to Cicero when he said something terrible to Jerome. Bruce would always have a clear image in his head of Jerome’s face when Jeremiah quietly, but sternly told their mother off for the things she’d done to Jerome and how it was unfair that she treated him so well while hurting Jerome when the two of them were so much more alike than they were different. 

He’d actually socked their uncle in the face with a beer stein. Bruce hadn’t felt bad.

They kept breathing along with Mary’s instruction, Jerome still occasionally cracking a joke, Jeremiah berating him softly. It was soothing for Bruce, combined with the background noises of the circus’ daily routine. They were setting up in another city-Star City, actually-and Jerome was taking on a special role tonight, that went beyond working as a clown. 

He was going to be the talker for the circus, and Bruce was looking forward to what he’d do and say to get attention. Bruce himself was involved, as he was going to be doing some acrobatic stunts as a sort of free show. 

The meditation came to a close and Jerome laid back on the ground, stretching out and sighing. Jeremiah stood, and Bruce stayed seated. Jeremiah looked down at him.

“When are you going to get ready?”

“An hour.”

Jeremiah had offered to help Bruce with any preparations he needed, but in the meantime, Jeremiah had plenty of other work to do; he was in charge of making sure the ferris wheel and merry-go-round and everything else that ran on electricity was functioning properly. Bruce moved closer to Jerome and laid down next to him, looking up at the sky. It was cloudy and overcast, and Bruce didn’t like that. He liked sunshine. Weather like this made him think of where he came from. 

“Cheer up, Brucie. You’re at a circus.”

“We live and work here, Jerome.”   
“No reason it can’t still be fun.”

Bruce rolled his eyes and Jerome was strangely silent for a few minutes. Not even tapping his hand on the ground or clicking his tongue-those little fidgets were something the twins had in common. Bruce turned his head to look at Jerome; the redhead was looking up at the sky, thoughtful and with a small frown on his face. Bruce quickly went to Mary’s bag-it was thankfully sitting close to them-and he grabbed a tube of red makeup. He must have caught Jerome by surprise, which was a feat unto itself, as he actually yelped when Bruce sat on his chest and drew a smile on Jerome’s face in bright red, laughing the whole time. 

“Cheer up, Rome. You’re at a circus!”

Jerome grinned for real, under the red makeup, and pushed Bruce off of him, flopping onto him and pinning him to the ground, both of them laughing and Bruce especially happy that Jerome seemed to have relaxed. 

“Now the poor circus has to go without a talker and without one of the star acrobats. How terrible! How tragic!” 

Bruce couldn’t even respond. He was laughing too hard, and it felt good. 

\---

It wasn’t unusual for Bruce to wake up between the twins, either by his actions or theirs. All three boys were often plagued by nightmares, by too many thoughts and too many voices, in the twins’ cases. Bruce wondered if they’d ever go to a doctor for that, if given the chance. 

Though tonight, it was his actions that brought him to their bed. He’d had a nightmare; dark, wet, cold city streets at night, a man in a mask-Bruce didn’t like masks, they weren’t like the clown makeup Mary and Jerome wore. Masks hid, the makeup enhanced. And masks hid killers, and killers hid guns on themselves, and pulled those guns on innocent people in alleyways and orphaned children and stole everything away from him-

It hurt. 

It hurt so much sometimes that Bruce couldn’t comprehend it, and it would stress him out, cause panic attacks-those had become less frequent over the years, at least. His first year at the circus had been plagued by anxiety and panic, though working with Mary and John and the twins had helped him cope with it. Especially Mary and John; though they hadn’t been alone when they’d each lost their parents, they still understood better than anyone else at the circus what Bruce had been through. With their help, it was easier to accept what had happened. He could talk about it, to some degree now. He still didn’t like to, but while it still hurt, and still sometimes hurt in that incomprehensible way, but he could. He could sit down with Jeremiah and talk about his feelings regarding what happened to his parents (and Jeremiah would listen, so wonderfully patient, holding him and stroking his hair), or he could tell Jerome about the fears he had from it (and Jerome would awkwardly joke and poke and prod and try to lighten the situation, because he didn’t know how to not, and Bruce appreciated it, because it was nice to feel like there was someone else who didn’t understand all the rules of the universe). 

He could talk about it, and sometimes, even think about it. It was good for him, to be able to be at that point. He didn’t dwell on that night, but it still affected him in many ways, and he tried to focus on his day-to-day, working and living and being at the circus; the wonder of traveling across the country (and on two notable occasions, illegally into and out of Mexico), seeing all the little hidden worlds that he never would have seen back in Got-back where he came from. That was something beautiful about the twins; they knew all the secret worlds and let Bruce see them with them, in every town they went to, Jeremiah found something beautiful and Jerome found something fun, and they shared their findings with Bruce, letting him experience things that he never would have known existed. It was so, so amazing, to exist like that, instead of confined to just one little circle of one little part of the world. And the twins...they didn’t understand his loss, and the pain from that, and he didn’t think he really needed them to. He didn’t need them to understand because they brought him comfort. 

It was different than how Mary and John comforted Bruce; that was more like the way parents would with a child. But Jeremiah and Jerome...they were different. They were his best friends (well, Bruce wouldn’t admit that there was a different sort of interest budding towards Jeremiah, but there was), and Bruce had never really had ‘best friends’ before. He’d known other kids his age, but too many of them were confused about his gender or didn’t share his interests or were just plain boring. They were all very high-society, and Bruce had only come to realize more and more how much he hated that-likely in part due to his best friends’ influence. The twins weren’t fond of rich people (something Jerome still occasionally, but lovingly taunted him about), and after working in the circus, seeing how people treated those who they thought were the lowest on the totem pole...it put a different light on the class he came from. 

Bruce happily snuggled between the two boys; they still shared a bed out of necessity and a lack of space, which was increasingly difficult as they grew into young men, on the cusp of their seventeenth birthday, and it was undoubtedly too small when Bruce joined them, but neither ever really complained. Usually a smile and a quiet tease from Jeremiah, and a few loud, but fake complaints about a ‘pain in the neck’ from Jerome. He felt an arm go around him, a nose shoved in his hair, and he sighed, happy and warm and incredibly safe. It was difficult for Bruce to truly feel safe, to feel like there wasn’t something right around the corner, someone, waiting to hurt him, or worse, hurt Mary and John and the twins. He wouldn’t know what to do if he lost them. 

“‘ruce?”

Bruce nodded when Jerome stirred and asked, and he settled down at the answer, pressing his face closer to Bruce’s hair. It was pink now. The Ringmaster had told him to continue changing up his look to keep suspicion away, and it had worked as far as he knew; he doubted anyone was still looking for him all this time later. He didn’t really want anyone to be looking for him. The only person he missed from his old life was Alfred. 

But if anyone could make it through that, it was Alfred. The man was indomitable. 

Bruce was facing Jeremiah in bed, and he wrapped his arms tight around his waist-both twins had grown muscles over the past summer, and those muscles felt spectacular when around Bruce or under his hands. Jeremiah smelled nice, and Bruce let the feelings around him and inside him sooth him to a peaceful, dreamless sleep. 

\---

This seemed like a terrible idea. 

“This seems like a terrible idea, Rome.”

“Oh, hush, Brucie, there’s nothing wrong with a little fireworks display-”

Bruce shook his head and sat next to Jeremiah, who was fondly watching his brother subtly setting up fireworks around the park. Somehow, no one caught him or even approached him to ask what he was doing. The man just had an aura about him, Bruce guessed, that deterred people from questioning him. Bruce leaned on Jeremiah’s shoulder and Jeremiah easily responded by wrapping an arm around his waist. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Okay. Last night was difficult.”

Jeremiah squeezed Bruce’s waist. Bruce had had his worst panic attack since leaving Gotham the night before; Mary had been assaulted by an audience member, thankfully not badly-Jerome and Owen had stepped in almost immediately, but there’d been a gunshot in the fray and Bruce had shut down entirely. The idea of Mary being anywhere near a gun just…

Bruce took a deep breath and pressed closer to Jeremiah. 

“Thank you for asking.”

“Of course.”

It didn’t help that they’d just passed the third anniversary of Bruce leaving Gotham. The timing of some things really sucked. Jeremiah kissed Bruce’s hair, though, and that made him forget about those things and the timing of them for a moment. 

“The patches aren’t causing any trouble, are they?”

Bruce shook his head. He had been surprised by the circus members with testosterone patches for his birthday, and it had been…interesting, getting used to the changes, slow-coming as they were. But he felt good. He felt right. His voice had even deepened a little bit. Jerome liked to make fun of Bruce’s voice being scratchy, and Bruce loved it, because it made the entire thing feel normal and easy and Jerome was trying so, so hard to be better with people. Jeremiah was working on it, too, though his issues with people stemmed more from being almost entirely anti-social and more interested in his own ideas and beliefs. Bruce had his own challenges, but he remembered enough from his upbringing that he knew how to act most of the time. 

“I think he’s about to set them off.”

Bruce and Jeremiah moved a little bit further back, watching as Jerome lit a match, and lit a fuse, and laughed maniacally as he watched the show. 

No one was hurt, but it was a hell of a time running when the cops were called. 

\---

He wasn’t quite sure at what point he’d fallen in love with Jeremiah, but the realization had been quite the hit. Maybe it had been the first time Jeremiah had curled around him after one of Bruce’s nightmares and soothed him, or when they’d shared a clumsy and happy slow-dance under the stars outside of a bar in Keystone, or when Bruce had punched someone for Jeremiah and turned to see a profound look on the redhead’s face. 

He was sure that Jerome was never going to let him live it down. 

“I don’t get it, Brucie. The ‘love’ thing, what’s the point?”

Bruce blushed as he scrubbed at pots and pans-it was his and Jerome’s turn to do the dishes for the kitchen, which really meant Bruce would do them while talking to Jerome because Jerome would booby trap the faucet or break plates if left to his own devices. 

“I don’t think there is a ‘point’, Rome. You just...feel it. You’ve felt love, right? For Jeremiah?”

Bruce grinned and winked at Jerome.

“And me, of course.”

Jerome grinned too, his stage makeup still on, red lines growing the grin abnormally. Some might think he looked sinister, but Bruce could see past that. He knew Jerome better than most people. 

“I have to love Jeremiah. He’s my brother. You’re just a lucky exception.”

“Sure.”

Jerome hopped up on the counter next to the sink. 

“So you’re gonna tell him, right?”

“I...don’t know. I’ve never felt-I don’t really know what to do.”

“Well how hard can it be? You tell him, you two kiss and live happily ever after.”

“I don’t think that’s how it usually goes.”

“You’ll never know until you try it.”

Bruce stopped scrubbing for a moment, staring down at the soapy water. 

“Do-do you think he...feels the same way?”

Jerome sighed, leaning back against the wall. 

“I told you I don’t understand all that-lovey-dovey romance crap, and I never will-I don’t want any part of it. But I’ll tell you that before you came along, Jeremiah barely talked to anyone, let alone me. Now he’s all-better. Going to school and making friends and generally not being a quiet, weird pain in my ass.”

He paused for a second and looked thoughtful.

“He’s just a more outspoken pain in my ass now.”

Bruce laughed. Because Jerome was always able to make him laugh.

“I don’t know if he loves you like...that, cause I don’t know what that looks like-but he does look at you like you’re every fuckin’ mystery of the universe being solved right in front of him, so you might as well give it a shot. Go out with a bang, all that.”

Bruce was still blushing, and he smiled very softly. He looked up at Jerome.

“Thanks.”

Jerome rolled his eyes and reached into the sink, flicking soapy water onto Bruce’s front. Bruce yelled out, and a water fight ensued, neither of them thinking about how much they’d have to mop up. 

\---

Somehow, Bruce had never been more nervous than right now. 

Jeremiah was smiling, following Bruce, his eyes shut tight, and Bruce was…really, terribly nervous. He’d decided-after a month of chiding from Jerome and the rest of the circus who had apparently all known that he’d been moony-eyed over Jeremiah by the third damn month he’d been there-to take Jerome’s advice and just. Go for it. But Jeremiah had been so incredibly special and important to him, that he wanted to make this special and important too, even if he wondered sometimes if the reason why he never actively realized he loved Jeremiah until recently was because whatever love he had for him was so natural and easy and right that it had sprouted unnoticed. 

“Okay. You can open your eyes now.”

Bruce stood next to Jeremiah, chewing on his lip-a habit he picked up from John, who did it every single time he was nervous-watching Jeremiah’s beautiful eyes open, blink a few times, taking in the scene before him. Bruce had gone through some measure of effort to find a small, quiet place, he’d made them a special dinner-this was also to celebrate Jeremiah getting so far ahead in his studies-and he wished they were older so he could have gotten a bottle of wine. His parents always celebrated with wine. Jeremiah smiled, laughing a little under his breath, and he turned to Bruce. 

“What’s all this?”

Bruce swallowed.

“Weirdly enough, one of Jerome’s ideas.”

Jeremiah raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Is the food going to explode? Do the napkins have itching powder on them?”

Bruce laughed, walking to the little table he’d set out. 

“No. He didn’t-me and you having dinner was his idea, not the specifics.”

Jeremiah sat down across from Bruce and Bruce served them both food-he’d really come to enjoy cooking and making things for people. Jeremiah watched him as he did. 

“Are we celebrating something?”

“Yes, and...maybe.”

Bruce sat and took a deep breath.

“I did want-for us to have a moment alone to celebrate you finishing up with all your high school courses and moving onto college. I’m-you’ve done so well, and-I’m really proud of you.”

That brought a blush to Jeremiah’s cheeks. He looked down at his plate, smiling. 

“I-I don’t think I would have been able to do any of it without you. Before-you came here, I was so caught up in-in fighting Jerome, I was considering running away-you changed all of that.”

Bruce felt a little breathless. 

“I also-I wanted-do you want to go out with me? I mean-do you want...to be my boyfriend?”

Jeremiah’s head shot up and he was smiling, big and joyful and real, and he reached across the table to hold Bruce’s hand.

“Are-you mean that? You want to be with-with me?”

“Yes. Yes, I-I love you. I don’t-I don’t want to sound like some stupid kid in puppy love, I-you’re the only person I’ve felt something like this for.”

Jeremiah’s smile softened, and he brought Bruce’s hand up to his lips, held between his own. He kissed at Bruce’s knuckles and the rough skin on his fingers, and closed his eyes, keeping Bruce’s hand near his mouth. 

“I’ve never felt-I’ve never understood my own feelings very well, beyond being angry or annoyed-but I do love you, Bruce. I know that. These past few years...I’ve never known someone like you.”

He kissed at Bruce’s fingers again, before opening his eyes and looking at him. 

“I love you, too.”

Bruce chewed on his lip again, and Jeremiah laughed against his hand. 

“And yes, to answer your question, so you stop eating your own mouth like that.”

That sent a flood of relief through him, and there was a sort of unpleasant paranoia hanging around him, like there always was when he was feeling particularly happy, but he tried to ignore it. That was a trauma response and he didn’t want that on his mind when he was sitting across from his...boyfriend. That word made him happy. Jeremiah made him happy, even when he released Bruce’s hand. 

“Let’s eat. Did you make all of this?”

“Yes. I wanted this to be...special.”

“How romantic of you.”

Bruce blushed again, feeling a touch embarrassed, until Jeremiah touched his hand gently. 

“I wasn’t being sarcastic. This is very thoughtful of you.”

“Boo! Kiss! We wanna see a kiss!”

They both whipped around to look at where Jerome-and a few other members of the circus-were watching, the Ringmaster dabbing at his eyes with a napkin. Jeremiah threw a piece of bread at Jerome and Bruce couldn’t even be mad at the interruption. His family was so strange sometimes, but he loved them. He felt lucky to have gotten to a place where he had so much love in his life.

\---

It was a beautiful sunny morning in National City. Bruce had just turned sixteen the night before, and had been allowed to try alcohol the first time-he wasn’t a fan. He was, however, a fan of getting to spend the night with Jeremiah, who had absolutely rocked his world. They’d taken the more physical aspect of their relationship slowly; both of them had been virgins and wanted to make educated, thoughtful choices about what they did together. They were smart about what they did do when they finally had sex; protection and pulling out, just to make sure. Bruce was still very much able to get pregnant and still very much having a regular period, and neither of them wanted to venture into teen parenthood. 

Not that Bruce having a period stopped Jeremiah from engaging in...certain acts, during that time of the month. 

Bruce opened his eyes to the sunlit trailer; Jerome had stayed elsewhere for the night, trying to give Jeremiah and Bruce some measure of privacy-thankfully. He liked to play pranks on them when they were alone together, much to Bruce’s amusement and Jeremiah’s annoyance. It was still nice to get an uninterrupted night. Jeremiah was spooned up behind him now, in the morning, his arms tight around Bruce’s waist and his breathing gentle and even against Bruce’s neck. Bruce had never put much thought into love and relationships before Jeremiah. Maybe because he was so young when they met, and over the course of the four years that they’d known each other and been best friends, and the one year that they’d been together as a couple (or almost a year, anyway, Bruce knew Jeremiah had every important date in Bruce’s life locked and scheduled clearly and permanently in his head), there had been a great deal of growing and maturing on both their parts. 

Jeremiah was seeking mental health treatment however he could, as was Jerome-who was just as much Bruce’s best friend as Jeremiah was, and Bruce wanted him to get help, too. It had taken four damn years of convincing both of them that it was a good idea, but they finally agreed, and they were genuinely doing better. 

The twins’ mental illnesses presented very differently, and what exactly they had was still undiscovered. There had been some diagnoses thrown around, but nothing settled yet. Jerome opted to not take any kind of medication, while Jeremiah chose to. Jerome was doing well with behavioral therapies, though. It made Bruce happy. He knew that many members of the circus still didn’t trust either twin, especially Jerome-especially Lila, who seemingly would never accept him. She tried to buddy up to Jeremiah, though, and he had been unwilling to give her a second chance because of how she treated Jerome. 

Jeremiah’s hands tightened on Bruce for a moment. 

“Mm-sweetheart?”

Bruce smiled and pushed back against Jeremiah, sighing. 

“Good morning.”

He felt a kiss on the back of his neck, and a smile against it.

“Good morning to you.”

They laid quietly together, Jeremiah’s fingers slipping over Bruce’s bare skin, tracing little lines and patterns. 

“You need to prepare for your performance tonight.”

Bruce hummed and turned in Jeremiah’s arms, pressing their noses together. That was very true. He was going to be doing a special trapeze and tightrope routine tonight, and was actually being introduced and talked up by Jerome, and he really needed to run through it once more, and he would...but for now, he wanted to do exactly what he was about to do: kiss Jeremiah, deeply and lovingly and intently. Jeremiah pulled Bruce close and kissed him even harder, one hand going up to his hair-the twins both really liked his hair, petting him and touching it all of the time, and Jeremiah loved to grab it while they were in bed together. Bruce whimpered at the slight tug, throwing his leg over Jeremiah’s hip. That was one way to start the day.

\---

Bruce loved the outfit he’d put together for the routine. The seamstress had made it exactly like what he’d envisioned; all black, with glittery stones on the fabric that made up the wings. They were supposed to look like bat wings, and they did, and he truly loved it. He was climbing the ladder to the tightrope in the dark, and the lights were out, and Jerome’s scratchy, low voice creeping throughout the tent. He knew the audience was looking around and up, waiting for the show to start. 

“Ladies, gentlemen, esteemed others, do we have a treat for you tonight.”

Jerome’s voice was hypnotic sometimes. Not in the same way Jeremiah’s low tone would be when he and Bruce were alone together; no, it was different. Like a spell. Like he was telling a secret with every word. 

“So many people are afraid of the dark...afraid of the things that go bump in the night. Well we happen to have what goes bump in the night right here, right in the darkness with all of you! Watch as he glides and flies through the air-friends and enemies, I give you...the Bat!”

A spotlight suddenly shown on Bruce, who was high above the crowd, on the tightrope platform-which was higher than the trapeze platform-crouched, with his arms around himself. He stood as two other spotlights lit him, spreading his arms, the lights catching on the stones on the wings. There was always something about this that took his breath away. He kept his arms spread as he stepped onto the rope. One step at a time, and it became mindless, easy to balance, and his wings fluttered a little from the movement of the air around him. He got halfway through and stopped, taking a deep breath and carefully flipping, doing a handstand on the rope, delighting in the gasp from the crowd. 

“Isn’t he magnificent? Everyone here should learn-the dark isn’t something to fear. The things that go bump in the night are more beautiful than you could imagine. More captivating than the finest art, more enthralling than the most perfect song!”

Bruce carefully flipped once again-he discovered he was contortionist-level flexible while learning the trapeze, and it came in handy for this routine. He walked the rest of the way on the tightrope, before stepping onto the platform...and jumping. The crowd screamed and he caught himself on the trapeze, the crowd applauding then, as he swung backward, then forward, feeling incredibly proud of Jeremiah’s alterations to the trapeze; these were automated so he could do a one-man show, and he trusted Jeremiah’s designs. He went through his routine, flying through the air and using his flexibility to show off, all while Jerome spoke below him, that hypnotic voice reverberating amongst the chilly air. He had one more jump to do, then he was done-

And he heard a rope snap. 

There was, thankfully, enough time for him to grab on to the other trapeze, though the sudden movement jerked his arm, the horrible pop of a dislocation happening in his shoulder. He cried out, and heard two voices below him, matching and equally worried, calling out his name. His real name, but he didn’t notice, focusing only on coming to a stop safely. The lights shut out, and Jerome ordered everyone out of the tent. Bruce climbed down the ladder with one arm and forcing his other to wrap around each bar, and Jeremiah was right there, pulling him down before he even got to the bottom. Bruce sat and looked up; both twins were right there, along with John and Alphonse. 

“What happened?”

“My shoulder is dislocated-my-the rope on one of them snapped-”

“What? How-we checked those over and over, no one was in here before the show-”

“Except Jerome.”

Bruce watched as Alphonse growled out the name, and he grabbed Jerome by his collar, pinning him to the floor and hitting him in the face a few times, blood appearing on the ring he was wearing. Bruce cried out.    
“No! Don’t-”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“Bullshit! We all know what you’re like-”

Bruce tried to push Alphonse off, and Jeremiah did so successfully, while John carefully pulled Bruce away. Jeremiah now had Alphonse pinned to the ground, one hand around Alphonse’s throat.    
“Don’t you EVER put your hands on my brother like that!”

“He could have killed Bruce!”   
“It wasn’t him!”

Even through the pain in his shoulder, Bruce wanted to voice his opinion. He was sure Jerome had nothing to do with this, he had to be sure, and Jerome stared at him, with wide eyes, and Bruce gasped; Jerome’s cheeks had been torn from Alphonse’s ring, and he seemed...genuinely hurt by the accusation, and Bruce could understand why. Jerome had worked incredibly hard over the past four years to change his ways and get better, to be better, and he had-he was always going to have incidents, and everyone had accepted that. Or Bruce thought they had, at least. Jerome’s eyes looked wet. Bruce had never seen Jerome cry, not even when he was in pain. Jerome spoke, his words a little muffled from the damage around his mouth.

“I didn’t do anything. I-I promise. I wouldn’t hurt you-I’d hurt just about everyone else in the world, but-”

“I know-I know, Rome-I believe you-”

“Bruce, we need to fix your shoulder and Jerome might need stitches-”

Jeremiah was now kneeling next to Jerome, carefully cupping his face and inspecting it. Bruce stood with John’s help and they all went to their resident doctor. Olivia had actually been a medical student before joining the circus, so she did know what she was doing, thank God. Owen was actually the one to pop Bruce’s shoulder back into place, while Olivia stitched up Jerome’s face. Jeremiah and Bruce were allowed in the room with him. It was blissfully quiet after the cacophony of the fight. Jeremiah kissed Bruce’s shoulder and they watched as Olivia worked on Jerome. 

“I believe you, Rome. I know you didn’t do it. It was probably just a weak rope. It happens.”

“I know for a fact that it wasn’t Jerome. I was with him the whole time before the show. And besides that, everyone here knows he would never hurt you.”

“One way or another, he paid for it. These are going to scar. You can come back and get the stitches removed in about a week, alright? Do you want any pain medication?”

Jerome carefully sat up. His cheeks were swollen around the stitches, and his eyes were bloodshot against his still-pale face. 

“Got any whiskey?”

Olivia smiled at him and shook her head. 

“No. I’ll give you some hydrocodone. If you want to take it, you can, if not, bring it back. Keep the stitches clean and sleep on your back, not your sides. Try not to yell or talk too vigorously.”

Olivia left the tent, and Jerome didn’t look at Bruce or Jeremiah. It didn’t read as guilt to Bruce; it read as upset. 

“Rome?”

“I didn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything.”

Bruce stood and came next to Jerome, reaching out and grabbing his hand. 

“Jerome? I believe you. Jeremiah believes you. I know you wouldn’t hurt me, and I know that you don’t hurt people anymore. You’ve worked very hard to change, and anyone who can’t see that is blinding themselves for no reason. And-I know this is close to setting you off. What can we do?”

Jerome still had trouble asking for help, and Bruce hoped that offering it would make it easier. 

“Stay with me. Both-of you.”

Jeremiah stood behind Bruce, putting a hand on the small of his back. 

“Of course. We’re right here with you, for as long as you need.”

Jerome squeezed Bruce’s hand. He didn’t often seek out comfort of any kind, but Bruce and Jeremiah were happy to give it. 

\---

Bruce was looking in the mirror of Mary’s vanity, cleaning off his makeup from the show tonight. It had gone perfectly, and he had plans with Jeremiah to have a late dinner before talking to Jerome about their plans. They both loved life at the circus, but Jerome had been accepted to an actual university to finish out his schooling, and Bruce wanted to be with him and support him. They had talked about it, and they were able to leave and do as they pleased, now that Bruce was an adult, and part of what they’d talked about was bringing Jerome with them. 

He’d healed up fairly well after being hurt by Alphonse two years ago. Almost three by this point. His face was still scarred, but not quite so badly, and his mind had healed as well. 

Alphonse had even apologized. 

Bruce hoped Jerome would go with them. There was a knock on the trailer door, and Bruce called out that it was open. He looked in the mirror, and of course, Jerome was standing there. 

“Hey.”

“Hey, Brucie.”

Bruce kept cleaning off the makeup, and Jerome watched him. He still had his own makeup on, and something did feel...odd, about seeing the red smile drawn on over Jerome’s scars.

“How are you? Tonight was amazing.”

“‘m alright. I just wanted to tell you something.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Yeah, Bats, I just...wanted to tell you...thank you.”

Bruce looked at Jerome in the reflection.

“What for?”

Jerome shrugged, his hands in his pockets. He had changed his clothes, but not taken off his makeup.

“I’d never had a friend before you. Not even-wasn’t even friends with Jeremiah until you came along. You changed a lot about me. I wanted to thank you for that. And-”

He cleared his throat. Bruce was sure he’d never heard that tone in his voice. He turned to face Jerome, frowning. 

“-I wanted to say...I’m sorry.”

Bruce knew for a fact that he’d never heard those words from Jerome. He was pretty sure no one had.

“Rome?”

“You changed a lot about me. But you couldn’t change me. Not the real me.”

He was quiet for a moment, watching Bruce, and he shook his head, sighing and shrugging his shoulders. 

“Well. That’s all I wanted to say. Night, Bats. I’ll see you around.”

“What do you mean? Jerome-”

Bruce stood as Jerome left quickly, and he realized with dawning horror that there was a blood stain on the door where Jerome had grabbed it to open and close it. 

“Oh no-”

He rushed out, looking around, trying to find Jerome, and he did see Jeremiah coming towards the trailer. He ran towards him, and Jeremiah still couldn’t read people well, but he could read Bruce, and knew something was wrong.   
“Sweetheart? What happened?”

“Jerome-he just came to talk to me-did you see him?”

“No, why? What did he say?”

“He said-he wanted to thank me and told me he was sorry-there was blood on his hands-I don’t know what happened-”

They heard a scream and ran towards it. That had been Mary. 

It was Lila.

When they got to the scene, they saw her body on the ground, behind her trailer, and her current boyfriend’s body next to her. They’d both been stabbed repeatedly, and many times in their genitals, and Bruce had to cover his mouth with his hand to keep from getting sick. He didn’t care for Lila, or her boyfriend, but it was a difficult thing to look at. He turned towards Jeremiah, who opened his arms, wrapping them around Bruce and holding him close. Bruce hadn’t missed the grins drawn in blood on their faces. 

If they had just been stabbed...it wouldn’t have been so bad. But this was beyond that-it couldn’t have just been self-defense, though Bruce didn’t doubt that had been part of it, and the placement of the stabs all but confirmed his worries that this boyfriend had been abusing Jerome. 

“Jeremiah-”

“I-we have to leave. Tomorrow.”

Bruce nodded, pressing closer, and they held each other until the police came to talk to them. No one at the circus really liked the police, but a customer who’d stayed late had seen the scene and called them. Bruce was honest; he said Jerome had spoken to him and left. No information or anything. Jeremiah had been helping take down the ferris wheel and had an alibi that was corroborated by multiple people. 

Jerome was long gone by the time all the questioning was done. Bruce had no idea where he would have gone, but he knew that if anyone could just disappear into the night...it was Jerome. 

More than anything, he was sad. 

Sad because people had been killed-even terrible people-and sad because Jeremiah was hurting, and sad because his friend was gone. His friend who had changed so much over the past six years, so much that Bruce knew that it had been real. None of that change had been for nothing, it had been real and good and Jerome had been so good for years and years. 

At the end of the day, Bruce didn’t know how to feel about the whole thing. Part of him wanted to hate Jerome for doing this, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t hate Jerome, even after this. 

Bruce finally got to crawl into bed with Jeremiah later that night. Jeremiah felt frozen, stiff and quiet and unsure. 

“Do you want to talk about tonight?”

Jeremiah swallowed, and Bruce curled up into one of their usual positions; his head pillowed on Jeremiah’s chest, one arm around his waist. 

“I don’t...know what to say.”

Bruce was quiet. 

“Neither do I.”

They laid together and Jeremiah loosened up enough to cover Bruce’s hand with his own where it was on Jeremiah’s chest. 

“He was doing better. He’d been doing so much better. We were…”

Bruce interlaced their fingers. 

“Are you mad at him?”

“...I don’t think so. I-feel like I should be, but...I didn’t care for our mother. I had worried that that man she’d been seeing had tried something with Jerome, but he wouldn’t talk about it, and-if that’s what happened...I can’t blame him for defending himself, but-”

“We both know that that went beyond self-defense.”

Jeremiah clung tightly to Bruce’s hand. 

“He had so many good days, but-I suppose all it takes is one bad one. One bad day, and your life changes.”

Bruce pressed a soft kiss to Jeremiah’s neck.

“I’m sorry, Jer.”

Jeremiah leaned down enough to kiss Bruce’s hair, then further down-a line of kisses along his forehead, the bridge and tip of his nose, and his lips. Jeremiah shifted and moved down, cupping Bruce’s head in one hand and kissing him far more deeply and passionately, and Bruce kissed back with as much vigor, because he wanted for Jeremiah to feel anything other than whatever was going through his mind. Jeremiah broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against Bruce’s. 

“I don’t know what to do-”

“I know-I know, love, I know-we’ll figure it out together-”

Jeremiah cried against Bruce’s chest. He had only cried twice before this since Bruce had met him. He held his lover and tried to soothe him, both of them mourning Jerome, Bruce hoping in his mind that wherever he was...he was alright. 

\---

**Author's Note:**

> a special drabble prize to anyone who can answer:
> 
> who messed with the rope?


End file.
